A True Angel
by LacrimosaRoseDonovan
Summary: Mysty fell in love with a man she could never have. But ten years later, now living in Coney Island, is there a chance for them or will Christine forever keep them apart?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: All characters from The Phantom of the Opera belong to Gaston Leroux! All other characters are mine. :)**

**AN: NO! I have not forgotten about "She Walks in Beauty." I'm working on it as well. I had three different POTO stories going at the same time and this one has been wanting to get out. So...here it is! Chapters 1 and 2 have been written but I'll see how this is viewed before I put them up. From one Erik lover to another...Enjoy! OH! And Review! **

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Prologue

"Christine, you look absolutely lovely." I adjusted the star-like gems in her hair to make sure she looked perfect for her debut tonight.

"Oh, Mysty I'm so nervous." Christine rang her hands in anticipation. "What if I sound horrible and all of Paris hates me?"

"Well…" I sat down next to my dearest friend in the world and took her hands in mine. "First off, they wouldn't be able to recognize true talent. I mean, if they've been cheering La Carlotta for the past five seasons, they obviously cannot. So, they'll love you regardless. And second…" I made sure I had her eye contact. "You are not going to sound horrible. You have been taught by a great teacher, that is plain to see. I know tonight will be a magical night for you."

"Oh, Mysty. What would I do without you?"

I laughed. "You would be a nervous wreck, running around the room like a crazy person and we'd have to lock you in an asylum."

"Would not!"

"Would too!"

The two of us laughed for a moment, before the reality of the situation sunk in. "I wish you were singing with me," Christine said.

I scoffed. "An angel does not sing with a toad, Christine Daaé."

"You are not a toad, Mysty. You have a beautiful voice. I wish others could hear it."

"Well, tonight they are hearing you. One day, I will have my chance, but I am afraid that tonight is not that night. So, I shall sing when no one is listening and cheer for you from the wings." I helped her up and adjusted her dress. "Now, go marvel the world, Christine."

I followed her out and she was right on time for her entrance. _Think of Me_ was a beautiful aria that seemed almost written for Christine. No one would have imagined this morning that when La Carlotta had stormed off the stage in one of her numerous diva fits, that quiet Christine Daaé would take her place. Now…here we were. Christine was singing at the Opera Populaire and all of Paris was at her feet.

While standing on stage right, I was afforded a look up to Box Five. If one was lucky, a person could see the Phantom of the Opera sitting there. No one was ever lucky to see his face, but one could sometimes see the rustle of the curtains or if fate was really kind a cloak swirl into the darkness. Tonight, there was a person sitting there! A real person, and…it was the Vicomte de Chagny! I placed a hand over my mouth to prevent a gasp escaping. The managers had not followed the Phantom's instructions! There would undoubtedly be hell to pay.

The thunderous applause that rang through the auditorium when Christine had finished surprised everyone. She was a success! The world loved her and would undoubtedly beg for more! I joined in the applause as did my fellow actors and when the curtain had closed we helped pick up the flowers. I volunteered to take them to her room. It was difficult going amidst the crowds of people who were trying to gain access to Christine. I, thankfully, made my way through, and opened her door.

"Christine!" I sang, but she was not there. I smiled, and laid down the flowers on her divan. I supposed that she was down in the Chapel praying. She could be such a silly girl at times, praying when all of the world wanted her. Knowing she would probably be exhausted, I figured my presence was not going to be necessary. I found a piece of paper and scribbled down a few words of congratulations and laid it down on her vanity. Standing up, I found that my wig had become jostled and was showing a bit of my hair. Before leaving Christine's room, I adjusted the brown haired wig to cover my hair, and left her room. The Vicomte and the Managers and it seemed all of Paris waited for her to appear. I figured that the dancer, Meg Giry, would have retrieved her.

Feeling that she was well taken care of, I went to the costume department where I discarded my dress and handed them the brown wig and replaced it with a different brown wig. This one stopped just below my shoulders and fell straight. The wig makers had been kind enough to make me a few different hair colored wigs out of real hair. They felt sorry for me, I guessed. It was hard having a unique quality that meant everyone felt free to stare. So, it was always best to leave the strangeness covered.

I put on my black skirt and white blouse and made my way up to the dormitories which I shared with the ballerinas. The dormitories were empty as I figured that many of the girls would be out making conquests and Christine, as well as Meg who was probably now the leading ballerina, would be trying to shoo off admirers. So, I was left to myself, which I was going to assume was now going to be the usual. I sat on my bed, glad that I was given the bed next to a window. I looked down at the streets expecting to see Christine or Meg. Meg I eventually did see leave with her mother, but never Christine.

Thinking that I could catch her before she would fall asleep, I got up off the bed and made my way back down to the Prima Donna rooms. What I saw surprised me. I saw the Vicomte desperately trying to open the door.

"Excuse me?" I asked, stepping up next to him. "Is everything alright?"

"No!" He growled. "I cannot get the door open…and I heard voices in there."

"Perhaps Christine had a visitor…" I doubted the words as I spoke them.

"With the door locked?!" The Vicomte glared at me. "I'm off to find the Managers to demand they open this door!"

I watched as the blonde haired Vicomte marched away and I smirked. So…_that_ was the young boy that had made such a remarkable impression on Christine earlier during rehearsals. He certainly gave the impression of always getting what he wanted. I chuckled and pulled out one of the bobby pins from underneath my wig. It was quite easy to unlock something with just a bobby pin. I had done it numerous times for the stage hands that wanted something a little extra from the kitchens at the end of the night.

There! The door handle turned easily and I stepped into Christine's room. It was completely dark. I grabbed a candle from the hallway and lit a few of the ones inside her room.

"Christine?" I whispered. "Are you in here?" There was no answer. I held up my candle and took a look around. Everything seemed to be fine except for…the floor length mirror. I stepped closer and found that the mirror appeared to have been separated from its frame. I pushed on the glass and found that it would slide into the wall revealing a passage way! I looked back to make sure that no one was following me and I stepped through. Fearing that the Vicomte would soon be coming back, I slid the mirror all the way closed and was astonished to see not my reflection, but the room I had just left. I gasped and stepped away from it and further into the passageway.

I held up my candle finding that I was not going to need it. There were torches all along the walls and I kept walking forward. I had heard rumors of the tunnels and passageways that were the Opera Ghost's domain but I was more worried about Christine than anything else. I, however, soon found myself lost. The tunnels soon became more like dungeons. The light soon faded and I was left in the dark.

"Christine?" I whispered to the darkness.

"Who the hell are you?"

I screamed and dropped my candle. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and yet nowhere. "Who…who's there?" There was little point in asking for I knew instinctively whose presence I had stumbled upon.

"Must you really ask?"

"No…I suppose I do not." I stood straight and cleared my throat. "Very well, then Opera Ghost. I am ready to meet my fate."

"Excuse me?!"

I tilted my head and looked straight ahead, which seemed sort of pointless since I couldn't see who I was speaking to. "My fate. My maker. My death! Come on, everyone knows that should you ever meet the Opera Ghost, you die."

"And you are prepared to die…right now?"

I felt breath on my skin and I clenched my hands to prevent a shiver. "Yes."

"At this exact moment?"

I felt hands on my neck and I whispered a prayer. I knew that he could snap my neck and it would all be over. Would I feel any pain? Would it be over in a moment? "Yes. Just…would you please tell Christine that I love her and that I was so happy to have had such a beautiful and kind friend as her? Consider those my last words." I closed my hands and released a breath certain that it would come now.

"How do you know Christine?" The hands leave my neck and I felt my knees grow week.

I turned around and could tell that my eyes had adjusted to the dark. I saw the outline of a figure standing behind me and I could see a pale white mask covering half of a face. Two eyes glittered like stars and I peered into them. "Christine and I have been good friends ever since we were both brought here."

"I don't remember you. Are you a dancer?"

I laughed. "Hardly. I work in the costume department, and I am not surprised you would not remember me. I take great care to blend in, and with Christine being as wonderful as she is, it's easy to turn a blind eye to everything else that moves. Even I can't take my eyes off her when she dances or when she sings. She's almost not of this world. It's quite scary at times."

I felt a hand grab my wrist and pull me along. "Come with me."

"Wait! Where are you taking me?!"

"I won't kill you, but I cannot let you leave. You have seen me, and for that reason alone you cannot be free."

Since this Opera Ghost had my life in his hands, I chose not to remark on the fact that I hadn't _truly_ seen him. He almost appeared to me as a shadow. Instead, I allowed myself to be pulled along into the black darkness. I picked up my skirt so I wouldn't trip on anything, but he led me down to the depths with little problem. I was amazed that he could maneuver around corners and through tunnels without hesitation. The only time I was confused was when he stopped abruptly and there was still no light.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid that we have come to a descending staircase, and it will be quite difficult for you to travel downwards as you can hardly see anything."

I chewed my lower lip. "What would you have me do?"

He didn't answer and I screamed when I felt my feet go out from under me and I was in the arms of the Phantom of the Opera!

"You could have just asked."

"A courtesy best left alone."

A gave him a look which I was sure he could not see. I held my arms around his neck and leaned my head against his shoulder. I kept myself stiff as I was quite sure my entire body slack in his arms would have been even more difficult. I closed my eyes and sighed. While the last of the journey was made, I thought to myself that I should be quite scared. Most of the opera troupe who had said to see the Opera Ghost were frightened out of their wits because he was so hideous. Granted most of what we heard came from Joseph Buquet and I learned a long time ago to _not_ believe what he said.

Finally, there was light but I was not put down on solid earth. I opened my eyes and looked around. I had no idea how far below the Opera House we were but I saw props from past operas scattered about it, and eventually a house! It was not a huge house, but it appeared to be big enough to house a small family. Once we reached the doorstep, I was placed on my feet. It appeared to be a back door and I was curious as to what was towards the front.

The backdoor opened and my wrist was grasped in a deathlike grip. I followed my captor until we came to a doorway.

"You should get some rest. We'll discuss your arrangements in the morning."

I looked up at the Phantom to get a good look at whose grasp I had fallen into. I gasped. "Oh, my!"

"Yes…terrible isn't?"

I could hear great sadness in those few words but it was not the mask that held my attention. "Your eyes!" I reached up and touched the unmasked side of his face. I could feel him draw back and I quickly said what was on my mind. "I never dreamed that the Opera Ghost would have sapphire blue eyes!"

He appeared as shocked as I was at my words, but he was the first to recover. "Good night, Miss…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Everyone calls me Mysty."

The Phantom looked down at me and I tried not to get lost in his eyes. "That's an unusual name…"

I smiled and opened the bedroom door. "Well, I'm an unusual person." I closed the door and latched it. I looked around the room and found it to be beautiful. Granted, I had never seen many rooms aside from the rat infested places I had once lived and the dormitories. This room had emerald green carpet with light golden walls. The furniture was all mahogany and it contrasted very well with the walls.

I stood in front of the full length mirror and looked at myself. Thankfully, I had not decided to go looking for Christine while in a nightdress. The first thing I removed was the wig which was proving to be very irritating. I sat the brown tresses aside and stared at the wrap that held up my hair. I undid the wrap, setting aside the bobby pins as I did so. My natural hair then fell down to just below my shoulders.

My hair was solid white. It had been that way since I was born and my skin was just as pale. It was the reason that people stared. I grabbed a brush and ran it through the white mass and didn't bother with my clothes. It would be morning soon and if I needed clothes well then he would just have to go get them.

I laid myself down on the comfortable bed that had an emerald green bedspread with silver thread embroidered into it. Before my eyes finally closed in slumber, I realized that I didn't know who _he_ was. I didn't know his name!

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The first thing I heard the following morning was an ear splitting scream. I sat up in bed and raced to my door.

"DAMN YOU!" That was the Phantom. His voice was filled with anger, hurt, and…sorrow? I could hear him yelling and at whoever had screamed. I found an opened door and saw the Phantom towering over a woman who was cowering in the floor.

"Fear can turn to love, Christine! You'll learn to see the man behind this…monster!" The Phantom's voice broke and a sob escape his lips.

"Christine!" I yelled. The Opera Ghost had knelt down on the ground and he had one hand over his face. In Christine's hands I saw….the mask! Oh, no! She didn't! She couldn't have! Christine was crying and huddling in the corner.

She appeared to be unharmed but for some reason, my attentions turned to the Phantom. I slowly walked over and knelt down in front of him. He tried to turn his head away from me but I made him look at me. His eyes widened, and I realized that I had left my hair down.

"I usually wear a wig…" I fingered my hair and brought it over my shoulder. "It's kind of sad when most people don't know where your skin ends and your hair begins." I chuckled and looked into his blue eyes. "Now…let me see."

"No…" he shook his head but with surprisingly little effort I took his hand that had covered his face and held it within my own hands. I was shocked at his face. I could see why Christine had screamed and why the Phantom wore a mask. But…

"I've seen worse," I whispered. I placed a hand over my mouth having not intended to say anything.

"What?"

Trying to find something else to do, I looked at his hand and saw blood. I looked at his disfigured face and saw that it was bleeding. I fumbled about my pockets for a handkerchief and not finding one tore a slip of my underskirt and pressed it to his face.

"There…you'll be alright in no time. But I daresay you'll want your mask just the same." I walked over to Christine who gratefully handed his mask to me. She was still sobbing hysterically and I rolled my eyes.

Kneeling back down, I saw that the Phantom had stopped crying. Before I handed him his mask, I looked into his eyes once more.

"You may want to put something on the inside of your mask. It may diminish some of the irritation. It can't be comfortable wearing this all day. And, Phantom…" I handed him his mask, but I remained eye contact with him. "I believe that there is great beauty within you, and one day the world will see it."

He stood and I turned away as he put his mask on. I looked back and saw how his entire personage changed. He stood straighter, and almost as stiff as a board. He seemed more confident, more sure of himself. He turned back and I suddenly had a terrible fear. I had truly seen his face…would he let me live? Christine?!

He walked towards me and grabbed my wrist and then he grabbed Christine.

"Come, we must return. You are both sure to be missed."

There was nothing but silence as we made our way up. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and yet I felt as if so much time had passed.

We reached the mirror and the Phantom released a lever that caused the it to slide. Christine was through the mirror and out the Prima Donna room door before I could say anything. I heard a heavy sigh behind me and I turned. The Phantom was watching Christine, and in a moment of clarity it all became clear, what he felt for her and how she would never feel about him.

I cleared my throat in an attempt to break the silence. "Thank you for returning us, and for sparing me."

"Don't come down again," he bit out.

"Unless you come to get me," I smiled.

He gave me a look that chilled me to the bone. "You should go." He turned and walked away and I was preparing to leave when something stopped me.

"Wait!" I cried. He stopped and looked back. "Can I please have your name? I swear I won't reveal it to anyone."

There was silence and I thought that he was going to turn and leave without saying a word. "Erik."

I smiled. "Erik…Such a beautiful name."


	2. Living With Choices

**Disclaimer: All characters from The Phantom of the Opera belong to Gaston Leroux! All other characters are mine. :)**

**AN: NO! I have not forgotten about "She Walks in Beauty." I'm working on it as well. I had three different POTO stories going at the same time and this one has been wanting to get out. So...here it is! Chapters 1 and 2 have been written but I'll see how this is viewed before I put them up. From one Erik lover to another...Enjoy! OH! And Review!**

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Chapter I

_Living with Choices_

**Ten Years Later**

"Mysty, I'm so sorry." Christine cried into a hands and I did as much as I could to calm her. "It's so unfair that you have to pay for Raoul's mistakes."

"Losing most of your fortune at the gambling table is more than a mistake, Christine," I admonished. "It's a serious problem."

Christine crumbled under the weight of my words and I wrapped my arms around her. "Where will you go?" Her tear streaked face looked up at me.

I smiled and brushed back her hair. "Don't you worry about me. I received quite a settlement after Frederick's death. Living here with you has allowed it to gain quite a lot of interest during the past ten years. I'll go to America."

"Mysty! You can't! What about Gustave?!"

As if on cue, Christine's little boy burst through the door. "Mama! Papa says it's time for dinner!"

Christine held out her hands and Gustave eagerly climbed up into her lap. "And how were you with your teacher today?"

"Mysty is an excellent teacher, Mama! She teaches me piano and art and writing and mathematics and history and…"

Christine and I laughed. "One day I will teach you how to rule the world, Gustave." I knelt down and rumpled his hair playfully.

"How can someone rule the world, Mysty?" Gustave's blue eyes sparkled in the lamplight and I was struck anew with the truth about him, for neither Christine or Raoul had that color of eyes.

"It's very simple, and one day I will teach you. But now, it's time for supper. I'll race you!"

"Go!" He scrambled off Christine's lap and darted out the door before I had a chance to do anything. By the time I reached her doorway, Gustave was at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm going to catch you, _mon petite prince_!"

"Never!"

Reaching the stairs I did something that I only do when we don't have company. I sat down on the banister, my legs dangling off to one side and slid down. I ran down the hallway where an opened door went into the dining room. Gustave, thinking he was safe, stood off to one side, but I was not prepared to give up the chase. I snuck up behind him and tickled his sides sending him into gales of laughter.

"Mysty stop!" He cried, laughing as we tumbled to the floor.

"Never, little Vicomte!"

"What is the meaning of this nonsense?!" A voice boomed from the doorway.

Gustave and I looked up to find the Vicomte de Chagny standing just inside the door glaring at us. I quickly got up and helped Gustave to his feet. I dusted him off then sent him on his way to his father.

"We were just playing Father," Gustave apologized.

"You're both a little too old for playing, aren't you?" Raoul walked over to the side table where his alcohol was usually kept. I ignored the amount he poured and then downed, and turned my attention back to Gustave.

"Come on, dear. Your mother will be down in a few minutes." After he was situated in his chair, I dispensed with the formalities of having my seat pulled out and quickly sat down in the seat next to Gustave.

True to form, Christine arrived looking lovely in a dress of light pink silk. Her hair was done up which was a little sad for Gustave, as he always loved to see his mother's brown curls hanging down her back.

Christine had changed since her marriage to Raoul. She was no longer the happy girl who was so in love. She had become strained, tired. I could plainly see how she tried to keep up appearances with Raoul and in society. Not very many people knew of the financial state that Raoul had gotten them all into. Sometimes, I wondered if Christine had ever regretted her decision in leaving the Opera House with Raoul that night so many years ago.

I trembled and looked down at my plate. I had seen so much that night and had tried to forget it all. My own husband had died that night, but it was not Frederick that I was concerned over. After Christine had been forced down to those depths of the Opera House during the night of _Don Juan_, I had followed. I had seen everything unfold while standing in the shadows. I had seen his tears, his pain, and I had seen the kiss. I watched as Christine left the Phantom of the Opera there crying, and I had wished to be the one to relieve him of his pain. But the mob was coming…and he had escaped before I could do anything.

I had not seen or heard anything about him since that night, but I knew that Christine knew something. How else was Gustave to look nothing like Raoul?

"Mysty?" Gustave reached out and touched my arm and I realized that I had been lost in memory.

"I'm sorry, darling. What is it?" I smiled and caressed his hair. He was such a beautiful child, so full of innocence and kindness. He reminded me so much of Christine when she was younger.

"Mama asked if you were alright."

I looked up at Christine. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You looked awfully pale."

I shook my head and looked back down at my plate which had been filled for me during my reverie. "I was just thinking…about days long since past."

"About your husband?" Raoul asked, his voice hard and cold.

"In a way," I whispered. I picked up my knife and fork and started eating. The food tasted like sawdust in my mouth. I took a drink of water and tried to clear my head of the past. It did no good, to dwell on those choices. I had to live with my decisions.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Everyone seemed to be preoccupied with their own thoughts. Gustave knew something was wrong with me and he sought to find ways to make me feel better. I smiled and laughed at him and helped him clean off his face when he was finished.

"Gustave, go up to the nursery, and play for a little while. There is something we have to talk about. I shall be up soon." I sent him on his way and turned back to face Christine and Raoul. "Christine, I shall leave by the end of the week."

"Oh, Mysty," Christine's eyes filled with tears.

"There's no point in trying to dissuade me. I have made my decision. I'm going to tell Gustave tonight and then book a passage to America." I looked over at Raoul and saw that he averted my gaze. "I know how the finances stand here. I am not blind, and I know that it would be a little easier if I wasn't here."

"We're not destitute, Mysty." Raoul bit out.

"No, but if you don't control your drinking and your gambling, Gustave will be without an inheritance." I was so furious with him that I almost couldn't stand it. Raoul had made Christine so happy all those years ago. What happened to him? What happened to their love?

"How dare you!" Raoul jumped up from his chair. "You have no right!"

"But I _am_ right, and don't you even try to deny it!" I stood up and threw my napkin on the table. "I will be leaving at the end of the week. The sooner I leave the better. I won't have to watch Christine fade into nothingness or how you treat Gustave with little to no love!" I left the table and made my way out of the dining room. I hated that man! I had hated him ever since he had taken Christine away from the one person who could truly love her body and soul.

I took my time going to the nursery. I wanted to be completely calm when I saw Gustave again. I wondered if the Phantom knew he had a son. I doubted it. Christine would never admit such a thing…maybe not even to herself.

"Gustave?" I called out knowing I was near the nursery. "Sweetheart, are you there?"

I saw him peek out from the door and came out. "Mysty? What's wrong? Am I in trouble?"

_Sweet innocence_, I thought to myself. "No, darling. You are not in trouble." I took his hand and walked him back into the nursery. We curled up in the window seat. He laid his head down on my chest and I felt tears in my eyes.


	3. Reuniting with Friends

**Disclaimer: Mysty is mine. Everything else? Not mine!**

**AN: I'M BACK! Please don't kill me! 3**

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Chapter 2

Reuniting with Old Friends

**Three Months Later**

_My dearest friend,_

_I knew that you should be one of the first to know! We are coming to America! Raoul, Gustave, and I! I have been asked to sing for Oscar Hammerstein for a very substantial fee. As you know we need the money, Raoul wants me to. It shall be the first time I have sung for an audience since that terrible night so long ago._

_Gustave is looking forward to seeing you again, and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to look after him while we are there. I know how much you dote on him and how much he adores you. _

_Well, we shall be arriving about a week after you receive this. We'll be staying at…_

I put Christine's letter down and rubbed my eyes. Apparently the letters I had written had been seen by blind eyes. Christine obviously didn't remember the fact that I had my own career here. Here…on Coney Island. Not that I didn't want to look after little Gustave, I had missed him so deeply, but I had a life here…and I was happy. Well, as happy as anyone could be living in a world of what was called "The Land of the Freaks."

I touched my white hair and stared at my reflection. My voice had changed during the years since I had left the opera house. It had matured into something was described as "a voice of heaven" here in America. Overnight, I had become Coney Island's "Angel," a word which I swallowed as well as I could. I had signed a one year contract and I sang every night. Of course, with my pale skin and white hair, I was given a pair of costume wings and a white robe with billowing sleeves. I was made to appear as if I had truly descended from heaven to sing for the world. It was silly, but I enjoyed singing and sharing it with those around me.

Now…it was to be all disrupted just because Christine asked for it to be so. I put my head in my hands and groaned. It felt terribly unfair…but what more could I do? I got up from my desk grabbed my wig. I hated to wear the infernal thing but it was in my contract. No one could know who I was in the day, even though it was so obvious. I made my out of the apartment, passing other tenants as I did so. I lived in a building that housed other freaks who worked at different places around Coney Island. Midgets, bearded ladies, magicians…I thought I had left behind all of that so many years ago, but apparently destiny had a way of laughing at me.

I put a hand over my eyes to shade them from the glaring sun. My apartment held little sunlight and the candles I had were few. I wasn't paid very much to sing and anything monetary I was given, like jewels, or anything of that sort, was kept by my managers. Flowers, and those kinds of things I got to keep.

"Top of the mornin' to you Mrs. Sharpe."

"Morning Lisa." I smiled to the red-headed Irish woman who I usually met on my way out. "How are you today?"

"Lord willing, Mrs. Sharpe. You singin' again tonight?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You should come listen to us sing down at the Pub some night, Mrs. Shape. It's better than that high stuff that hardly makes sense."

I laughed. "Sure I will, Lisa." I dropped into an Irish brogue. "I might even do a jig while I'm there."

Lisa laughed and slapped her thigh. "To be sure, you do that!"

We said our goodbyes and I went on my way. Lisa had moved here with her husband and three children about a week after I had arrived. They were opened minded people and stayed close to Coney Island's various attractions.

As I kept walking down the street, saying hello's and smiling to those I knew, I came to an attraction that I always stared at but never dared enter. Phantasma, it was called. It was an island unto itself that held rides and attractions and special shows. The man who created was said to have designed it all himself and was a musical genius. He had come here ten years ago from Europe, or so the story went. It was also said that he was in a terrible fire and wears a mask to cover his face.

It was at the mention of the mask that all the pieces were put together. There was only one person who had the genius and the ability to put together this place. I had never dared go in because I couldn't face him. Though he now went by Mr. Y he was always Erik in my heart. It was so long ago and I doubted he remembered me…not when there was Christine, always Christine.

"Excuse me, miss? Are you coming in?" The ticket master looked at me and I glanced behind me to see that a line had formed.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" I stepped aside to allow the people pass.

"Mysty?"

I turned at the sound of my name and I saw "Meg!" We ran to each other embraced each other affectionately. "You look absolutely wonderful!" She in truth did look healthy and was very well dressed in a dress of light blue which made her gold hair shine and her blue eyes sparkle.

"I almost didn't recognize you with red hair!" Meg reached out and touched my red curls and laughed. "Is this what you look like when you're not performing by night?"

I chuckled. "Yes, it is. But what about you? What are you doing here?"

Meg pointed behind me. "Mother and I work at Phantasma."

I whirled to stare at the imposing entrance behind me and gasped. "But Meg...you know who runs that place?"

Meg whispered in my ear. "Of course I do. Mother and I brought him over and helped him start his business. I'm the leading singer there and mother helps with the dancers."

"You can't be serious!"

Meg stood back with her hands on her hips her head tossed back with such pride and…defiance? "Of course I'm serious. Mother and I do quite well for ourselves. Do you want to come see her? I know she'd be so happy to see you again. You could stay for lunch!" She tugged on my hand with such urgency that, despite my fears of going inside, I allowed myself to be pulled along and we entered the world of Phantasma.

Since it was near noon, and most of the shows were scheduled for later in the day, all that was available for most of the people were the rides, concessions, and a few specialty "freak shows" as they were commonly called. Meg pulled me past a huge Ferris wheel, a few roller coasters, and various tents that held mysterious from around the world or delectable foods from various countries. It was such a magical place that would only be more so when the sun had descended and it was all aglow with the electric light.

What Meg was guiding me to, was the large theatre house in the back of the park. There was no one coming in or out so I assumed it was a night time theatre that held spectacular magic shows, comedy performances, singers and variety acts. We entered at a side entrance meant for entertainers only and for an instant I felt as if I was back in the Paris Opera house preparing for the rehearsal of Hannibal or Il Muto.

"Mother!" Meg's voice rang out in the dark theatre. "Mother, you'll never guess who's here!"

We were in the backstage area, making turns that surely led to the dressing rooms. There was a hallway of doors and Meg's door was about halfway down on the right. I was surprised, yet glad, that Meg had her own dressing room. It showed that she was doing remarkably well for herself here in Coney Island.

She opened the door and a familiar woman sat stiffly on a chair sipping her tea.

"Mother! Look who has come to visit us today!" Meg pulled me through the doorway and closed the door behind me.

At first Madame Giry, the former ballet mistress of the Opera Populaire, did not recognize me. She sat her tea aside and stood up, her cane ever in her grasp.

"I dare say you won't remember me. I wasn't a ballerina, but I was in the chorus. Christine's other close friend…"

"Oh, Mysty!" In a sign of true friendship, Madame Giry reached out and embraced me like a mother would embrace a long lost child. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"Mother, she's Coney Island's 'Angel.'" Meg flopped herself down on the divan and smiled up at me.

"Really? I had no idea it would be you! You were such a quiet girl in the chorus. It took the maestro forever to get you to even be heard on the other side of the orchestra."

I laughed, remembering the memories fondly. "I have been here for only three months. I couldn't stay with…in Paris. The memories there proved too great."

Madame Giry motioned for me to sit down which I gladly did.

"Yes, Paris held too many problems."

I sighed and pressed my hand to Madame Giry's. "Meg has already told me who runs this place, but truthfully, I already knew."

"Really? How so?"

I looked away and held my arms around my middle. "Let's call it…woman's intuition." I smiled softly lost in a moment of reverie.

"Oh, Mother, can't she stay for lunch today? I haven't seen her in years! I'm sure she has all sort of news from France. You must tell us all about Christine and Raoul!"

I inwardly groaned. It was one subject I didn't want to talk about, but… "You can ask Christine herself. She's coming to Coney Island to sing for Oscar Hammerstein."

Meg looked to her mother. I thought she looked frantic and scared. "Mother?"

Madame Giry passed Meg the newspaper. "It was announced only this morning."

Meg scanned the paper and threw it aside. "This means nothing, of course. He won't forget about us just because she's here. He owes a great deal to us."

"He owes a great deal to you Meg. You gave up much for him so that he could have the means to do it all."

Meg shuddered. "That's all in the past, Mother."

I knew better than to ask what Meg had given up, but I was curious as to why Meg was worried that Christine was coming. Meg obviously knew how Erik felt about Christine…how he always felt about her. It was something that had taken me years to get over, knowing that his heart would always be stamped with her name.

"Well, Mysty, what do you do with your day since you're only occupied with the evenings?"

I looked at Madame Giry and thought for a moment. "Well, most days I keep to myself. It's probably why we've never bumped into each other before. This morning I got up, had breakfast, straightened the apartment, read Christine's letter which actually came with a letter from Gustave, their little boy. When that happens I walk to the seaside and read it. Gustave has never seen the ocean before so I sometimes pretend that he is there with me telling me exactly what is in his letter."

"You took care of him, didn't you?" Meg sat up and looked at me curiously.

"I've looked after him since the day he was born. I've helped with his upbringing and education. I love that little boy."

"Is he musical like his mother?' Madame Giry asked.

More like his father, I thought. "Yes. He picked up what I was teaching him quite well. I was quite impressed."

"And do you like it here?" Meg asked. "How do you like Phantasma?"

"To be honest, I've never been inside Phantasma till today."

Both Madame Giry and Meg were shocked to hear such a statement.

"I spend my nights getting ready for performances and singing. When I'm not working on my performance, I help the others in the troupe. I assist with

costumes and make-up and making sure that some people get where they need to."

"Surely, you get a day off!"

"I sing every night. It's in my contract. But it doesn't matter, truly. I'm very grateful to have a gift that I can share with people who want to hear it." I fiddled with a red curl and smiled sheepishly. "I sing to help beautify the world around me…not for gain."

Meg was shocked but Madame Giry seemed to understand me. I thought her glance, though, was a little too calculating, a little too penetrating. I looked away and saw the clock.

"Meg, I should probably get going."

"Oh, you should stay! Have lunch with us and then you should watch rehearsal! You've said yourself you don't do much with your morning and so you must! I've been working on a new number and you just have to see it! It's so adorable!"

How could I tell her that staying here was unbearable? Being here…so close and yet so far to one whom I loved was torment. "Alright, Meg. That sounds wonderful!" I smiled, thinking that he would not be there. He surely wouldn't pay that much attention to a rehearsal. And then I thought of La Carlotta and what happened during a rehearsal of Hannibal. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.


	4. Author Note!

7/14/13 - I swore that I would never do one of these but I want to continue to be able to publish chapters for this story. "A True Angel" is currently undergoing major renovations as Mysty has decided to change her POV and to rewrite a few things. I apologize for the inconvenience but I hope to have this story updated within the week!

~LRD


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